


Ours

by naasad



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Disorder, Anxiety!Joly, F/M, Family, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kidfic, M/M, Multi, Poly Relationship, unecessary angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: Bossuet has been abnormally anxious and secretive lately, and Joly can't help but assume the worst.





	Ours

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if anyone (Musichetta) is ooc, these aren't characters I'm as familiar with, but I'm getting there. XD 
> 
> They're speaking French, except for italics. Italics are English.
> 
> Also, if I was a more patient writer, there would be a lot more talking.

“Allo?”

Joly tensed up as Bossuet answered the phone, an instinct at this point.

Chetta reached over and squeezed his hand.

 _“No, no,”_ Boss said in English, _“you didn’t catch me at a bad time. … Did the results come back? … Yeah, yeah. OK. …_ D’accord _, I agree. … I understand. … I will. …_ Au revoir.” He hung up the phone, hands shaking. “I need a smoke,” he said, rushing out the front door.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Joly slumped forward onto the table. Musichetta stood and started the kettle.

“Do you think he’s cheating on us?” Joly asked.

“He’s not,” Chetta said, confident as ever.

Joly sniffed and rubbed his face. “He said results. Do you think he’s sick?”

Chetta crossed the room and held him close, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Why wouldn’t he come to me?” Joly asked, crying now. “To us?”

Chetta crouched down and wiped away his tears. “I’m scared, too, but he’ll tell us soon.”

Joly reached for her and held her close, burying his face in her shoulder.

They stayed that way until Boss came back, the kettle went off at the same time. He poured three cups of tea and sat down with them. “I need to tell you something. I didn’t think….” He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and took a gulp of hot tea, scalding his tongue.

Joly reached over and grabbed his hand. “Just tell me those results weren’t for cancer,” he begged.

“No. No, no, no.” Boss squeezed both their hands. “They were, um, a paternity test. Let me explain, please?” He rubbed his thumb over Joly’s pulse, and turned to smile at Chetta. “It was my girlfriend before we started dating. The transfer student, remember her? Vivienne’s three now, but I didn’t even know she existed until they asked me to Megan's funeral. Her grandma wants me to take her, but I asked for a paternity test first. I didn’t think it would turn out positive, I’m sorry.”

Chetta took a deep breath. “Do you have a picture of her?”

Bossuet grinned shyly and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “Even if she wasn’t mine, I knew I wanted to stay in contact. I was just… so scared to tell you guys. We’ve never even discussed kids.”

In the picture, the girl had Boss’ dark skin and wide grin, but wavy auburn hair that no doubt belonged to her mother.

Joly took the phone and stared for a long time. “We have the room,” he found himself saying.

Musichetta smiled and kissed her boys. “I’ve never wanted my own kids because I don’t like the thought of morning sickness or changing diapers or waking up fifty times a night, but I’m not against adopting.”

Bossuet blinked in shock. “You’d do that?”

“Every young girl needs a woman in her life,” Chetta said. “Joly, you can be the godfather on paper, or we can switch. What do you think?”

Joly nodded slowly. “I want to meet her, first. But I’m not opposed to the idea.” He looked up at Boss and smiled. “Even if we don’t take her, she’ll still be part of our life, because she's yours.”

Bossuet stood and lifted each of them up in an arm, twirling around the kitchen and peppering their faces with kisses. “Thank you!”

They laughed until Chetta’s foot knocked over one of the teacups and Joly’s bad knee banged into the countertop.

Boss chuckled sheepishly and set them down gently. “Sorry, bad luck.”

“Speaking of,” Chetta asked, “how did she come about?”

Bossuet rubbed the back of his neck. “Condom failure?”

Joly went up on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek. “Hopefully, this will be the best bit of bad luck we’ve ever had.”

 

* * *

 

They met Vivienne at the airport nearly a week later. She bolted straight to Bossuet’s arms, far ahead of her stern grandma. “Bonjour!”

Bossuet chuckled, lifting her up. “Bonjour!”

Joly stepped forward to greet the proud Englishwoman accompanying the toddler. “Bonjour, Madame _. I trust your flight was pleasant?_ ”

The woman gave a barely-there smile _. “Quite so.”_ She turned to Boss. _“She’ll be staying with you for the duration of the week.”_

“Oui, Madame,” Bossuet said. He wrapped an arm around Chetta’s waist. _“We’ll have a decision by then.”_

 _“Excellent.”_ The woman handed over a fat suitcase and tugged her own to her side. _“I’ll be staying at Villa Montparnasse. Do you know it?”_

The three shared a look. _“Yes,”_ Joly said eventually. _“We are… acquaintances with a relative of the owners.”_

 _“Very well, then. Vivienne, behave.”_ She pressed a kiss to the child’s cheek and then she was off.

Vivienne giggled. “Grandma smells funny,” she said.

Musichetta laughed and took her from Bossuet. “Did you like the airplane?” she asked.

Vivienne nodded enthusiastically. “Are you papa’s girlfriend?”

“Oui,” Musichetta said, teasing, and she pointed to Joly. “I’m Musichetta, but you can call me whatever you like. And Monsieur Joly is your papa’s boyfriend.” She leaned in to whisper as quietly as possible. “And he’s my boyfriend, too.”

Vivienne gasped in delight – “I get two papas?!” – and then turned to Joly. “What can I call you?”

Joly thought for a moment, then smiled. “Whatever you like, except for Docteur. I get enough of that at work.”

“You’re a doctor?” Vivienne nearly dived out of Musichetta’s arms to reach Joly, and Bossuet caught her.

“Joly can’t hold you right now,” he said. “Do you see his cane? He needs it in order to walk.”

Vivienne nodded. “I’ll walk, too.” She hopped down as soon as she could and took Joly’s hand in one of hers, and Bossuet’s in the other, grinning at Musichetta. “I’m going to call you Mumu. It’s like Mama, but not, because Mama went to Heaven. And it’s also like your name.” She squeezed Joly’s hand. “I’m going to call you Jolly. Like Father Christmas! And also like your name.”

Joly chuckled. “I like that.”

“Me, too.” Musichetta smiled, wrapping an arm around Boss’ waist as she exchanged a look with both her boys. “I think we might just keep you.”

Vivienne beamed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm marking this complete for now, but I'm not opposed to writing more. Let me know in the comments if there's anything you want to see!
> 
> (Also, Villa Montparnasse is a real hotel, it actually looks really nice, but I couldn't resist making the fictional connection.)


End file.
